When They Know
by rchcc122
Summary: Someone has leaked information about the nations. But who? And what danger does this pose for them now that the world knows who they are?
1. Chapter 1

Frankly, he was a beautiful, beautiful man. She couldn't help but sigh as she stared at his amazing blonde locks as they blew in the wind, that little piece always sticking straight up. Honestly, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; at least he had never been whenever she talked to him, which luckily was almost daily. But he had such an infectious energy that swirled around him. When he was excited about something, be it politics or hamburgers, he would just talk. Just talk and talk with his beautiful melodious voice, entangling those around him in the excitement as well.

She sighed. He was the only reason she kept insisting on morning shifts, and since the morning shift required her to wake up five in the morning to open up shop at seven, people were more than willing to allow her to take the job if it made _her _happy. And oh, she was very happy about it.

Breaking her thoughts was the light jingle of the door opening. It had been slow that morning- as per usual at the 8:30 mark, but she didn't mind. Less work for her. And now? With him walking up to the counter, no one behind him, the boringly slow wait was more than worth it.

"Hey Al, nice day isn't it?" She smiled. Yes. His name was Alfred. Last name: Jones. Middle name: Something that began with 'F.' Age: 21. Hometown: Washington, DC. Relationship status: Single, but he definitely got around. Since he started coming in- exactly four months ago- he had been in an on and off relationship with a guy named Arthur. He once dated another guy named Matthew, and then he dated someone named Kiku. Was he gay? No. He had dated a girl named Natasha. He was bisexual. Which meant that she had some hope. "Can I get you your usual?" Oh yeah. She also knew how he liked his coffee. Did she stalk him? No. She remembered what he said to her. And she liked to imagine that he remembered what she said to him about herself. Name: Jordan. Age: 19. Hometown: San Francisco, California- in DC for college. Relationship status: Painfully single.

"It is a nice day, especially considering the winter we had," he smiled back, his perfect, bright smile with perfect white teeth and a little twinkle in his eye, "The usual would be awesome Jordan." He remembered her name. Her heart fluttered in the fashion of a schoolgirl crush. She rang it up, turning around to get his coffee, but something was off. He was quiet today, normally while she made his coffee he would update her on his life and she'd update him on hers in light conversation. Usually he had some sort of story to tell about the Arthur guy or the Matthew guy or the apparent creeper Ivan or the pedophilic Francis. She glanced at him, hoping to catch his eyes to get even a small idea on what was going on in his mind. But all she could figure out is that right now, he was staring intently at the television screen watching the news. She turned her attention to it, another person had been shot, another market had crashed, another person lost their job- and their home. She sighed once more, bringing the coffee to the counter.

"Here Alfred," She held out the cup of coffee for him. But he didn't seem to hear her, too lost and engrossed in his own thoughts and mind, "Alfred!" She tried again. His head jerked towards her and she blinked. He was really… jerky today too, "Your coffee. It's going to get cold," She tilted her head, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, thank you." He chuckled, but it was a dry chuckle. Not one of his light hearted, bell-reminiscent chuckles. "Sorry… I was just thinking."

"Happens to all of us. The world's a mess." She said with a sigh, her hand going to the back of her neck as she gave it a light rub, her words were slow and calculated as she continued, not wanting to upset him if he were already, "People fighting all the time, passing the buck constantly, corrupting the powers they have no matter how little powers they actually have…. It makes it hard to be average, y'know?"

But Alfred didn't seem upset. Instead, he listened to her, nodding, "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"If the nations were people… I wonder how they would feel watching their own argue over stupid things like this?"

Something about Alfred's motions changed just a bit as she said that, and for a moment, she wondered if he was now angry with her. But that didn't seem to be the case and after a few minutes he looked to her replying, "They'd probably get very large headaches."

"Haha, you're probably right…oh, sorry Alfred," she heard the door open again, "I'd love to talk more but I need to work…."

"Say no more," He gave her a smile, but it wasn't the smile she had been crushing on, "I'm going to be sticking around here, but in case of rush, nice talking to you."

"Ditto," she gave him one last smile before turning to the line, "Hello, how are you today? May I take your order?"

-U-

America felt himself sink into the smooth, leather chair facing the television screen. He leaned back, letting the cushioning mold into his curves, lifting the steaming cup of Joe to his lips. The sharp scent and heat tickled his nose and upper lip before he took in a nice, long drink, careful not to burn himself. America nestled further into the comfortable chair, enjoying the morning the best he could. He didn't want to think about politics, and he really didn't have anything to do that day. It was the first time in a long time he had any time to himself. He took another long sip, his eyes closing as he lowered the cup to the table next to him, resting his head back and shutting his eyes.

He didn't know how long he had been comfortable like that, but he did know what disturbed him. The sound on the television was being turned up. His eyes cracked open as he groggily turned his attention towards the screen only half awake. But that quickly changed as he saw a picture of England, France, Canada, and himself appear on the screen. He couldn't shake the feeling that people were staring at him, the eyes of those in the café were on him.

"….Sources say that all nations of the world have a human form. Shown here clockwise are England, France, Canada, and The United States of America..."

There was a painful, uncomfortable silence that ensued. He was frozen in place as he tried to avert his eyes from anyone in the café, resorting to looking at the steam curl up from his cup of coffee. His hand quickly went for it, shaking. He needed something to calm his nerves… it just… he wanted it. He fidgeted, the sharp, unpleasant squeaks from the leather chair the only sound in the silent coffee shop.

At least he really didn't know anyone here… at least, not for this time… right? No one here he saw regularly, he didn't talk to anyone regularly, did he? Right he did-

"Alfred?" Jordan cautiously started, breaking only the tip of the icy tension, "America?"

Oh yeah. Jordan. That girl.

America turned towards her, trying to find something to say, feeling his people's eyes on him now that this was spilled… "I-"

"You're phone is ringing," she added quickly- and America thanked her nonverbally. Sure she probably had questions, but he'd much rather talk to her privately about this… or if she was fine with it… not talking about this at all. "Are you going to get it?"

There was an odd silence before he looked down, "Oh! Yeah… I should… sorry…" He took the phone out of his pocket, looking at the name on the screen. He gulped, half tempted to just hang up and tell the man later that he had forgotten his phone… but… he never forgot his phone. He would know America was lying.

He let it ring for a moment longer before taking one deep breath; filling his chest fill with the air… then letting it all out before finally pressing the green button and putting it to his ear, "Hello-"

"YOU BLOODY GIT!"

(America could only think one thing when those words cut through the air and entered into his ears: Fuck. My. Life.)

* * *

Hey, this is kinda my first time writing this sort of fic. So please try not to crush my self-esteem. And it's 4:30 am and I'm tired. But I'm posting anyway! Hope y'all like and enjoy =0)

P.S. I am finishing the other fic I have going, I just recently started college and it's been eating my life.

-Me


	2. Chapter 2

America put his coffee down, temporarily debating with himself if it would be better to go outside for this call or if it would be better to stay inside for it. He weighed his options- the streets of DC had people going about their daily lives, how many of them had seen the news report? Did he want to risk the extra attention? At least the damage was done in the café. What would a little oil on the fire do? So he took a deep breath and spoke into the phone.

"Hello, Arthur."

"How did this get out? What did you do?"

"This isn't my fault! I didn't _do_ anything!"

"It was your people! Your news reporters always stick their noses where they don't belong. Now look what happened! THE ENTIRE WORLD KNOWS."

"Hold up! How do we know it's 'the entire world'? Maybe it's just… us? They only showed our pictures…."

"Have you looked it up online?"

"Arthur, its 8:30 am here. I only saw the news report on the television at the coffee shop."

"Didn't think so. _All _of us are there! ALL. It's like someone rigged the last world conference... No. in fact… In fact I think they did. I see the ketchup stain on your shirt from after lunch…."

If America could turn anymore pale than he already was, he did. He looked at the news report again that was continuing to go into detail, at this point they were bringing up photos of the others. The Italy brothers, Germany, Spain, Hungary, Austria, Russia, even Prussia.

"We need to have an emergency world meeting. Tomorrow morning."

"Which city?"

"Well, considering last time we were in the New York conference room it was _bugged, _I'll see you in London. Don't be late this time." And then there was a click. America grumbled under his breath as he stood up, throwing away the rest of the coffee.

"Al- America, Is everything going to be okay?" Jordan's voice broke the silence once more. America was almost relieved; he had underestimated how much a familiar, non accusing voice could do for someone.

"Uh, you can still just call me Al," he said with a smile, trying to keep his spirits up. Hell, he was with his people now. He couldn't be down. He couldn't be sad. He had to be as bright as he normally was- even more so now that he had people to reassure, "And yeah. Everything will be A-OK!" He smiled before turning towards the door, pausing a moment before hunching into his jacket more. He had to get back home as quickly as possible. He opened the door, letting it jingle before sprinting towards his house.

-S-

The world conference meeting was, in one word: chaotic. In two words: massively chaotic. There was an air of urgency in the room, yet it seemed as if no one really knew what the urgency meant, how to treat it, or what to do with it. There hadn't even been an order to this conference when it started.

England had gotten there first, and as soon as Francis arrived they had begun talking. Then Germany came into the mix with Italy and then Spain and Romano. And it grew. It grew into nations arriving and talking about what had happened and what to do next, and as the volume in the room escalated, the chaos grew. And if one had been watching, they would have noticed that no one had taken a seat yet.

But there was one thing that could silence an otherwise unruly crowd. And that was the man who they figured responsible for their excitement. America, naturally late to meetings, barely had to step into the doorway before a silence fell over everyone. His brother, on the other hand, was able to easily slip in beside America, unseen and out of the spot light.

"Uh, hey guys…" America said sheepishly, he tried to smile as brightly as he normally did, "Um, sorry for being late."

There was a silence as the eyes stayed on America. Their secret… the secret they had all worked for centuries to keep had been revealed in a matter of seconds, "So, what are you going to do about this?" England crossed his arms, "Do you have any plans?"

"Hold up a minute," the glimmer of defiance twinkled in America's eyes. And anyone who had ever faced off against the American in any form of battle knew exactly how hard he fought when he was defiant, "How come I have to take care of this? How is this all my fault?"

"The meeting was held in New York. We were revealed not days after," England simply replied.

"I didn't see anyone here checking for cameras."  
"That's not our job."

"The secret was everyone's job," he shot back.

"Let us stop the blaming," Germany cut in quickly, his voice firm and authoritative, "this involves all of us, it doesn't matter whom or what was the cause. What matters now is that we find a way to stop this before it gets even more out of hand."

"But how can we stop it exactly?" England came back to the center of attention, "Do we plan on brainwashing the entire planet? People know now. We can't do shit about that. Does anyone here realize what this means for us? Alfred! You have enemies who would love to get their hands on America. We all do. Think of Al Qaeda. What better terrorist attack than kidnapping and murdering an _entire_ _nation_? We should all at least remain hidden. You all know what it means when you kill a nation. Raise your hand here if you want to see the head of a terrorist organization with Ivan's power."

The group remained silent as eyes went to Ivan; some of the more skittish members of the conference- such as Feliciano- squirmed where they were standing. Yes. Ivan was intimidating. But would he use that power against them? Well. For the moment, no. He wouldn't. And they all knew that. But would someone else use that power? Yes. Yes they would.

"Okay, I think I know what we should do first at least," the eyes went to the speaker. America remained tall, his eyes still defiant, but he did have a thought, "Has anyone here read the comic books for _The Fantastic Four_?"

"Alfred, this is no time for comics-" England chided before America cut him off.

"Let me talk. I have a point," England grumbled as he fidgeted in his seat, crossing his arms, huffing and looking away. "Well, think about it. Right now, people know very little about us and what we do. They know we're the countries, but do they really know what that means? This kind of uncertainty is sure to cause fear in people. There are going to be people who believe we're threats to their society, even though we're their nations. When the Fantastic Four showed their powers for the first time, especially The Thing, fear blinded the people- keeping them from accepting them. Also, like in Spiderman, Spiderman was feared as well because people didn't know who he was or why he was there or what he wanted to do or how powerful he was even though he's aweso-"

"You've been talking for a minute now and I have yet to see a point."

"My point is, in each of those situations, it showed that people are afraid of power they don't understand. As soon as all the different superheroes- you can read this in any comic- are interviewed or show the public what they do, the majority of the public accepts them and stops looking at them as a threat and more as heroes."

"And so what does that mean for us?"

"If we refrain from hiding until people know who we are, what we do, and what our goal is, people will be more understanding as to _why _we're hiding. Then we won't have journalists stalking us to find the conspiracy! Cause everyone will know there isn't, and the few who still think there is will be restrained by the many! We'll be like superheroes with secret identities and everything! I call the human name, 'Kenny Marsh'!"

"Your human name is Alfred Jones." England grumbled.

"I think I get it," France started slowly, "even though I've never read any of those comics."

"Fine! So even if we do agree to this… absurd idea and analogy, how do you propose we go about accomplishing world coverage about us without the press twisting our words or distorting the facts?"

"Oh Iggy, you can think of this yourself! It's easy! How did we get into this mess?"

England's head fell into his hand in exasperation, "You can't be serious… do you really think that will make people _more _comfortable knowing who personifies and represents their nations?"

"Of course it will! It's the best solution!" America's bright grin flashed to the rest of those involved in the conference, "We're gonna invite the press to the next world conference!"

* * *

-Thanks for all of the super supportive comments, I'm sorry if this part fails, I'm tired and it's late, haha. But I really enjoy writing this one. Just a slight warning, in the future, I may need to bump up the rating as it gets more actiony-

-Me


	3. Chapter 3

America straightened his tie as his eyes met his own through the magic of the mirror. He fixed his hair just so, but naturally Nantucket refused to be laid down. He turned, adjusting Texas and checking himself out from the side. He was a little pudgy- Canada said it was muscle but to him it looked like fat. He sighed; he'd have to get to the gym today after the meeting. And he wouldn't have lunch- that should get rid of the fat, it usually did. He turned back to the mirror taking a deep breath. Alright, now was the time. He was going to show not only his entire country but also the entire world what he did as a nation. Who he was, and what that meant.

Was he scared? Maybe. Was he nervous? A bit. He took another deep breath. This could either work perfectly as he imagined it or… or things could turn out to be the biggest disaster since… since ever.

England still hadn't quite warmed up to the idea, but that was okay. He'd warm up to it once people started to leave them alone again. Once they started to be 'old news.'

The man sighed. This past week had been hell. As soon as people found out about them, it seemed as if the nations couldn't get a moment of peace. The paparazzi and press had started to swarm. The news had their faces everywhere. Long gone it seemed was Lady Gaga, forget about the election, forget about the president, the Democrats, the GOP, forget about the country _America. _Now was all about the human. The embodiment of the nation.

And according to England and France and Canada and even Germany and both Italies, it wasn't much different there. People swarmed when they left their homes, people gawked when they went to the store. Canada couldn't go to a hockey game without being torn between the two sides. Germany couldn't go to a pub. France couldn't sleep with anyone without it being plastered all over the tabloids the next day.

He ran his hand through his newly combed hair, sighing once more. This would be fine. He could do this fine. Everything would be fine. Today's meeting will go as normal. The difference? They'd have the CSPAN camera in the room. That's all.

So the man turned his back on the mirror, taking his bomber jacket off of his bedpost, pulling it on as he left the room.

-A-

"Are you sure? What if we get caught?"

"We won't get caught. I promise you."

"But how can we grab him? He's the freaking United States of America."

"I told you, we have a way."

"Why can't we just stick with Canada?"

"Because we-"

"Stop! You won't be able to get him! He's smarter than that!"

The small, dark room came to a silence. Eyes went to the blonde-haired boy tied to the chair, his curl hanging in front of his face as anger filled his eyes. The room was secluded; the men had made sure about that. The walls were thick; they didn't want anyone overhearing their words. They weren't in the middle of nowhere, but they were far enough from the city to both distance themselves from the police force and yet be close enough to make their methods easier. The nation struggled harder against the binds that kept him there, but they wouldn't break. Every time he fought, he received some form of abuse. A hit. A slap. A cut from the knife that would quickly heal over.

A tall, lanky man who shouldn't have been as strong as he was approached Canada, kneeling next to him as he breathed on his neck, whispering into his ear loud enough for the rest of the small room in New York to hear, "So, Matthew- Matt- Mattie-"

"I'm Canada," he spat out, trying to be brave. But what he received was a slap across the face. He growled but was ignored.

"Thing, monster, freak," he continued, "Tell me, if I killed you, what would happen?"

"Nothing. Nothing would happen. I'd die and there would be no more Canada," Lie. That was a lie. "That goes for America too!" More lies. If they knew the truth… and they killed him and his brother… who would be next?

He felt a hand grip is hair by the bulk, pulling his head back as he felt the cold, sharp metal of the knife against his neck, "You better not be lying to me boy."

"I'm not! I'm not!" his eyes were wide, the pain was incredible, his hair… his neck… he couldn't move.

"They're starting the meeting, boss."

The knife left Matthew's neck and the hand left the confines of his hair as the villain turned towards the scene. "Send two. Tell them to grab America after the meeting. If he's not there now, people will know something's up. We don't want to be stopped before we get started."

"Yes boss."

"If he fights, tell him we have Canada. Tell him if he wants to see his brother alive, he'll come quietly and without a fuss. None of the other nations should know that they're both missing until the next world meeting."

"Yes boss."

"Now go," he commanded before he turned back to Canada, grinning as he looked to the boy, "your brother will be here soon. Don't worry."

"You're making a mistake. He's going to ruin your plans. He's going to defeat you. He forgets about me. He's not going to just remember…" Canada's voice was growing in volume as he spoke, his tone harsh and his eyes narrowed. "He's not going to give you his country!"

"Of course not. His country's going to give him to me," he said simply before pulling the knife out again, "or I'm going to take his country from him," He lifted the knife, putting it to Canada's neck once more, enjoying the sensation of the man freezing at the light touch of the blade, "And then I'm taking your country from you. With the power of all of North America, I'll be unstoppable."

"You won't get away with it, people will find out-"

"I've already gotten away with it Matthew. We just have to watch it play out. Now shh. The meeting's starting."

Canada could only look to the screen as he saw the nations start filing in, a different attitude among them all. They all seemed much more proper this time; there was no light banter between them, the excitement significantly lower than it normally was. This time they all had a country to represent- not that they hadn't before, but this time their people were watching them represent them. He didn't see his brother yet… maybe his brother could avoid being caught? Maybe he'd have gotten sick or-

And then Alfred F. Jones walked in, that bright smile on his face as he scanned the room, his smile seeming to falter when he couldn't find his brother. But it was just a flittering moment of that before his name was called by England and he turned towards him, laughing brightly before taking his place at the podium while the nations began to settle down.

"He'll come to us easily, I can tell already." The man laughed darkly, "North America will be ours by tomorrow night."

* * *

A/N: So yeah. I am not that happy with this chapter at all, but I'm tired and I wanted to get it up (what he said). Anyway, yeah- this is going to turn a lot darker since I tend to write dark things because they're fun.

Oh, and in response to a pondering, I have this to say: It's always America's fault because if anyone's ever watched an election of any sorts, or any sort of controversy, they know just how much the US press can dig up. But keep in mind, the countries are the ones who are blaming America. That doesn't mean their blame is right.


	4. Chapter 4

This whole thing felt off. America's eyes scanned the room. It didn't look like Canada was there. And it wasn't that he was just invisible either. Canada… he really wasn't there. He looked over to France, "Hey France, where's-"

"America!" England motioned him over; cutting him off and intercepting the nation. He lightly, yet firmly gripped America's arm and pulled him down so his lips were inches from America's ear. "I hope to God you know what you're doing."

"Relax England!" He pulled back, that same bright, goofy smile on his face as always, "What could possibly go wrong?" There was a silence. England's stare was intense. America could have sworn he saw a flicker of trust in his eyes, but it was just that- a mere flicker. England's penetrating gaze didn't faze as he said what they were both thinking:

"Everything."

America opened his mouth to respond and reassure, but before he could get any words out he heard the familiar pounding on a table, "Alright. The meeting begins now!" Germany's voice boomed throughout the room and America quickly settled his things at the podium.

"Thank you, Germany," he began, using their nation names. They had all agreed plenty before the meeting that they didn't want to use their human names in public. Their human names would be the only things to remain intimately theirs and no one else's unless they gave it to them. That was what they all wanted. Privacy. Intimacy.

"Alright ladies and gents!" His grin was infectious, England couldn't deny. It was a good thing he was starting this meeting. Maybe things would turn out for the better? Maybe he hadn't been as absurd as he sounded when he proposed allowing the media into their meetings. At least... he looked down upon the agenda. At least they weren't discussing anything the public wouldn't be shocked to hear them discussing- like why they shouldn't keep insisting the door to the closet gets stuck whenever two of them are in there, for example. Or the proper distance that France, Prussia, and Spain should maintain between themselves. Or why Canada, Holland, and/or Prussia are no longer allowed to make brownies for the meetings.

"As you all know we have some super special awesome guests with us today! The super special awesome super press for all of our nations! Welcome!"

"Enough with the stupid formalities, stupid bastard. Can we get on with the meeting?"

And though the press was caught off guard as Romano's words marked the first time in history that television censors bleeped out a nation, Romano's words began the first bit of normalcy in the meeting. And even though it was a tad bit uncouth, the Nations became visibly more comfortable as America started to list off the order of business. "Alright! So. About the superhero Globalman. I think we need to make him immune to kryptonite. Because really? Although Superman is awesome, he kinda has a super lame weakness."

"I think you're an idiot," muttered England.

So, for the first half of the meeting, things went fairly well. They were talking about issues, solutions, and ways to handle things.

And then it all went to hell.

"Prussia, where are you and France going?"

Austria tilted his head, ignoring the anxious looking Hungary who was fixing something that suspiciously looked like a video camera.

"For the last time, they will not keep cleaning up after us-" Prussia opened his mouth to reply, but Austria already knew what he was going to say, "-'The closet door was stuck' is NOT a viable excuse."

And England could feel the confused and disgusted looks from the press recording and playing live everything they said.

"But mon cher," France began, trying to intercede with his own argument for why it was completely and totally necessary that they did what they did when they did.

"You can wait until you get home."

"But you should know how much talk about one's say… Eiffel Tower makes it almost a necessity for-"

"FRANCE." England's hissed.

"-a man like myself to take care of myself."

This matter of discussion continued, and soon the meeting, although perfectly normal by their standards, was disintegrating into a game of 'who's screwing who' and was quickly, by multiple government's rating systems, turning into the equivalent of a NC-17 discussion.

If England hadn't been so enraptured in the discussion himself, he would probably have come to the full realization that what he was saying- "Oh, ho, ho, hold it right there France, the Eiffel Tower may be bigger at the bottom, but Big Ben is thick all around"- might make his Queen blush.

"AMERICA. STOP GIVING SEALAND IDEAS." Off to the side, Sealand and America were talking to each other, America drawing what seemed to be an intricate plan for a very intricate prank involving glow sticks and rubber bands... England blinked, was that a G-String?

Prussia grinned, showing off the offending cloth, his pants off to the side, "it holds it all tight while leaving nothing to the imagination!"  
"How would you like one with a tomato on it, Romano?"

"SPAIN…BASTARD."

"I made brownies for all of the press!" Holland smiled, getting ready to hand them out.

America rushed forward, "No! Holland! That's illegal here!"

"But I worked hard on them!"

"Well. Then you and my brother can-" And he paused, "Hey, guys, has anyone seen Canada around?"

"Who?" China tilted his head.

"Canada, my brother-"

"Marry….marry…marry…."

"Get away from me!"

"GERMANY! SAVE ME!"

"Hold still!"

"Western culture is so strange."

"Big brother Switzerland, what does it mean to 'pop a cherry'?"

"I can't believe you're throwing this out! It's only been used a few times!"

"It has a hole in it!"

"You can patch it."

"It's a condom!"

"OW! Take it out!"

"Not again!"

_CLANG_

"…Aren't people still watching?"

There was a slight, fairly awkward pause. England blinked, coming back to the reality that his people had been watching the entire meeting. He glanced to the others before looking at the press. All of the reporters had wide eyes and all of them seemed eternally scarred after what they had seen.

The nations themselves seemed to have different levels of humiliation associated with what their people heard. England's cheeks were bright red as he backed away from the cameras. Hungary was trying to regain her collected, sane appearance while Prussia just grinned, almost seeming to show off his G-string even further.

"Alright! That ends this meeting! See you all next time!" America had smiled again, taking his podium and closing out the meeting- rescuing them all from any further humiliation.

The press remained frozen though, still trying to recover from the insanity they had all just witnessed. Germany stepped in front of them. "All of you! OUT!"

And the press, terrified of the German- but not as terrified of the German now that they saw the little Italian hanging off his arm- quickly gathered their things and left.

"Your Queen is proud of you," Francis grinned, "At least she knows now you aren't a bastard because you don't get any action."

"Stop it you damn frog."

America smiled, watching everyone recover in their own way. But… he continued to look around. Where was his brother?

Maybe he had been there but he left because… because maybe his leader was having trouble with him being there? Maybe he didn't want to have him there? That could be it. That must be it!

So he went down the hall, seeing if his brother had been waiting outside for the meeting to end. He blinked before he pulled out his cellphone. A call should help solve this mystery. He kept walking through the hall- not paying attention to where he was going. He'd find his way back later.

"America."

America froze, his finger on the send button, his eyes wide.

"America!"

"Who's there? Are you a ghost?"

"Over here." A man stepped out from behind a corner. "And no. I'm not a ghost."

Though by all logic he had no reason to suspect him, a part of him felt uneasy. What was he doing so far from the conference room? America remembered England's warning, and he just had to ask. "Are you a terrorist?"

"Terrorist?" The man chuckled, smiling. "Nah, I'm not a terrorist."

America breathed a sigh of relief, smiling again himself. "That's good, I was kind of freaked out for a minute there-"

"But," The man's grin became darker, "the guy behind you might be."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the super late update! I had gotten involved in Nanowrimo, then finals, then the holidays. This part was a bit more crackish, but I do have plans to make this story very dark because that's fun. Anyway, sorry for any mistakes, you can send me any insults or praises or bashes or theories on life.

Sorry if I destroyed any of your hopes and dreams for the new year.

Thanks for all the awesome comments and thanks for the support! Happy New Year!


	5. Chapter 5

_"Terrorist?" The man chuckled, smiling. "Nah, I'm not a terrorist."_

_America breathed a sigh of relief, smiling again himself. "That's good; I was kind of freaked out for a minute there-"_

_"But," The man's grin became darker, "the guy behind you might be."_

Before America could spin around, he felt a hand snake into his hair, grabbing him roughly. He couldn't move- nation or not, his hair was still a powerful place to grab him. But he still struggled, trying to kick the person behind him as his head was pulled down and he was dragged roughly from the hallway to the inside of a room.

"Let me go!" He cried, struggling the best he could while keeping his head level as to not hurt it. But he only heard laughter. "What's so funny? You assholes let me go!"

"Be quiet." The man said as America was pushed into a chair, chains wrapped around his body quickly. His hair was released and the villains stood back, observing their prized capture. However, America only smirked.

"Do you really think that chains as small as these can keep me here? Ha! I break chains like these as if they were scotch tape!"

"The only difference is if you break out of this, we break your brother." America stopped his struggles, looking sharply at the villain.

"My brother?" He spoke slowly, as if the words were foreign before his eyes widened and he jerked forward for an attack but was restrained by the chains, "What have you done with Canada?"

"What a good brother you are. So worried about your sibling. Don't worry, he should be fine. Provided you come along and sit pretty for the camera. We just want you to read our demands to your people. That's all."

America couldn't believe it. He shook his head, "No… I'm not going to let you bribe my country with me!"

"We're not. We're bribing you with your brother," he paused a moment to think, "well, we are then going to bribe your country with you. So I suppose you were sort of right." The man chuckled and then shrugged, "Oh well, that's neither here nor there." His expression turned dark once more and he narrowed his eyes at America, "So, come with us or say goodbye to your brother."

"You don't really have him do you? You're lying!"

"I'm lying am I?" He flipped open a phone and speed dialed back to their hideout. It wasn't long until a click came on.

"Hello?"

"He says we're lying. I never lie. And he's resisting, so we may need some motivation."

The phone was then put on speaker; America heard a gruff voice on the other end, "Come on. Give us a little whimper. Cry. BEG."

Nothing.

"Or else."

Still nothing. And then they heard it. A crack. A scream of pain. His brother's scream of pain.

"Canada!" America started to struggle hard; there was another crack, a bone cracking, another scream of pain, "Stop it! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

The evil man only grinned, the corners of his lips curling up, his eyes crinkling in a sinister fashion, "Why, Mr. America, you know you are the only one now who has the power to stop this. Just stop your struggling and come quietly."

And America stopped struggling, looking down, the hero- defeated. There was silence on the other side of the phone for a minute, silence except for heavy, painful breathing before- "So, America, you listen and obey now… you bastard? You don't obey England or anyone else who tells you to use common sense… but you're listening to _these _people? Come on America! Fight them! Don't worry about me! I-"

_Click. _

"Now, that's enough from him. We're going to release you from the chair. But you're not going to fight us; you're just going to follow us quietly. Got it?"

Silence. Nothing. No movement or acknowledgement from their captive.

"I asked you a question, Alfred."

"America."

"Alfred. Answer me."

"My name is America to you," he looks up with narrowed, angry eyes. He might not be able to do any fighting, but that wouldn't stop his mouth.

"Hahaha, my dear, your name is whatever I say it is now," he gripped America's chin tightly, forcing his face up so that he could look him in the eyes, "If I say your name is Dog, your name is Dog unless you want your brother to lose his other fingers as well. So let's try this again," he grinned a toothy grin, releasing America's chin.

"Dog, do you understand? Bark for me. Just once is enough."

Silence.

"I said, _bark_, or do you need motivation again?" he opened his flip phone.

"Woof."

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that. What did you say?"

"Woof!"

"Ah, my old age is getting the best of me. Once more?"

Silence.

"Shall we check on little-"

"WOOF!"

"See? That wasn't so hard now was it?" He smiles up at the other man in the room, "Please, escort him out to the car. Make sure he doesn't make a mess though; I just got the interior cleaned." He looked to America once more, "Well, Dog, this is where I say bye. But don't be sad, I'll still be with you even when you're gone. Ta, ta!"

And with that, the sinister man left the room.

*-A-P-H-*

England's fingers tapped the arm of his chair in anxiousness as he watched the news. It seemed as if the stupid American had been right. The whole thing was settling down now that the world had sat in on a meeting. The news channel he was watching at the moment was covering the "Top Ten Moments of the World Meeting." Including the G-string and England's comments to France.

The Englishman buried his face in his other hand, his cheeks red with embarrassment as he peeked through his fingers to the phone by his side. The Queen hadn't called him. Was it because she was humiliated? Angry? Or had she not been able to stop laughing? And why hadn't that stupid American called him to brag about how he had been right?

He grumbled, figuring the answer was something stupid. He looked back to the news station just as they were changing topics about the meeting. He blinked as he saw the headlines for this one: "Where was Canada?"

England blinked. Canada hadn't been at the meeting? Surely America would have noticed? He then paused. America had noticed, hadn't he? He had been trying to ask about it. He reached for his phone; Francis had to know where his son was. Shouldn't he? He dials the number and holds the phone to his ear.

"Bonjour!"

"Francis, where was your son today?"

"Matthieu? He was not at the meeting?"  
"Of course he wasn't! That's why I just asked 'where was your son today?'"

"But there were brownies?"

"That was Lars." England was growing impatient. And people called _him _a bad father?

"Maybe Harper was keeping him busy?" However the worry in France's tone was growing, and England immediately started feeling bad, "He does that, right? It's not the first time a nation wasn't able to make a meeting because of a leader. Right?"

England glanced at the news, "Harper hasn't commented on it yet, but yes- that is a very good possibility." He took a deep breath, "I'm sure Matthew is fine. I just wanted to know if he had been sick and spoken to you about it."

"Oh… no, he's not sick… not from what I know. Maybe Alfred knows more? I'll give him a call, and then I'll call you back."

"Alright," and the Frenchman hung up on his side. England rested back in his chair, keeping an eye on his phone. The American never missed a call. They would have their answer in a matter of minutes.

Ten minutes passed by, and his phone finally rang once more.

"Hello, Francis, what did he say?"

"I… I got his voicemail."

* * *

Sorry for how delayed this is. I was going through college. But now school is out so I should have much more time! But I did just want to get this out, so sorry if it's not quite up to par! Thanks for reading!

By the by, I'm a horrible person and in my distraction I completely forgot to mention that the awesome natcat5 has written a sidestory/ish/but not really about what the actual brownie incident mentioned in the last chapter was. It's hilarious! Check it out here- .net/s/6629846/1/The_Brownie_Incident


	6. Chapter 6

"So, are you comfortable?"

America sat in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the room from his brother, his arms tied to the chair along with his legs and upper body. He knew if he tried, he could probably break free- after all, it was just rope. But Canada was already in pain from these guys, and they were still armed and dangerously close to his brother. No. America wouldn't give them any trouble until he saw an opening. The man stepped closer to the nation, peering down from his higher position.

"I asked you a question. Don't make this harder on yourself. Are you comfortable?"

America turned his head away from him, defiant. Canada hated this. He hated being bait, he hated that his brother cared so much at the most inconvenient times. Sure his hand throbbed with pain and there was a scar on his neck from the knife, but still. America never listened to anyone before, not him, not England, not Russia… and yet here were a few dirty thugs forcing him to obey.

_Slap! _"That was a warning. No more cheeky answers from you, or else."

If his brother hadn't been a nation Canada would have been more concerned. He knew they weren't going to kill them, the man wanted to gloat about his catch. The man captured two of the most powerful nations in the world. The captor felt safe for the moment in this stalemate.

However, there was one small flaw in the villain's plan. One large mistake he was making. He, like everyone else, was underestimating Canada. Canada was invisible even to his captor's once America came into the picture. He would be able to protect his brother in the end, he could be the hero.

"You are too pretty. Both of them are too pretty."

That caught Canada's attention, he barely had time to turn his head in question before he felt his chair being kicked, knocking him over and into the dust violently.

"You guys rough that one up, I'll rough this one. We have to make sure they look nice and disheveled for the video."

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, knuckles knocking into muscles, his brother's heavy breathing. Canada felt dirt being rubbed in his hair, against his face, scratching at his skin, blood trickling down his newly wounded cheek and his newly wounded arm. His seat was pulled back up, blood on his clothes. The men backed away and Matthew noticed the other had backed off of his brother.

"I think that should about do it. Though, we should count that as practice I feel. See? They're both already healing," the one in charge sighed with a shake of his head and a grin, "Such magnificent creatures. So beautiful." He knelt down in front of America, "I almost wish to kiss him."

The air was tense, America's eyes narrowed over his puffy cheek, the man laughed.

"Oh come on silly, I'm not serious. Don't get your panties in a twist." He stood, turning his head towards his second-in-command, "Did you train him?"

"Yes sir."

"Show me what you taught him before we leave."

"Of course, sir," He grinned, turning towards America. "Now, Dog, We're going to go set up the camera in the other room, okay honey? Be a good boy and stay here. Let's show the others what we learned earlier today. Bark so I know you understood me."

"No. And how did you know my name?"

"Oh dear. Adding questions to your stubbornness?" He gave a motion to the other two, and they neared Canada.

"Woof!"

"Again."

"WOOF!"

"One more time…."

"WOOF!"

"Awww, good boy," he smiled a sickly sweet smile and ruffled the American's hair. "Now sit tight. We'll be back."

* A *

"Call him again."

"We've been calling for the past hour, mon cher."

"Well then try calling Matthew!"

"We have also been doing that for the past hour."

"Then at least be a little concerned!"

"I am concerned."

"THEN SHOW IT!"

England was having a hard time keeping his temper with the frog on the other end of the phone. How come the bastard sounded so calm and collected even though both of their sons were missing? He struggled to control his breathing as he awaited a response.

"How would you like me to show my concern? If both of us acted as you are now we would be barging in to God knows what. One of us has to remain collected."

"I AM COLLECTED!" Though England was still breathing hard. He knew this was going to happen. He knew it! "Didn't I say this would happen? Didn't I say that people would kidnap us for our powers?"

"We do not know that that is what happened," though France wasn't sound in his words, "For all we know they could simply be preoccupied with prior arrangements."

"Like what? And neither of them are answering their phones!"

"Arthur, I am not saying that nothing is wrong. I'm saying that there are other reasons for their disappearance we have to explore. We cannot automatically assume the worst-"

"But we should! There are cases, yes, where assuming the worst isn't the best way. But their lives are on the line! All of our lives are on the line! If they are captured and killed, we'll be next and before you know it, the world will be at the hands of some mass murdering crack head and his goons!"

"So you are not concerned for the children, you are concerned for yourself."

"I'm concerned for everyone, Francis," England rubbed his temple, the phone hard against his ear, "We need to call an emergency meeting. I know everyone must be tired, but we can't just ignore this. If we're overreacting, then so be it. The two should learn not to worry us. Meet in the conference room in an hour. I'll contact the others."

"I will help you spread the word."

* N *

"Alfred."

"Matthew."

The two's voices synched up in unison. America gave Canada a slight grin and a light chuckle, Canada returned the gesture. The air in the room was heavy, suffocating almost. Both strived for a lighter atmosphere. Yet, America knew that what he had to tell Canada would result in anything but.

"I have something to tell you." Again, their words matched up in unison.

"What?" Their streak wasn't quitting.

"You go first." What was supposed to be an ending to the unity turned into just another step.

"I want you to kill me." The unified voice died off into a unified silence full of shock.

"WHAT?" They spoke together again.

"But I want to be the hero!"

"But you have to be the hero!" Their words finally split slightly in meaning but remained the same in time.

"Listen-"

They started once more together before America frowned and pulled ahead, "No, Matthew, stop for a second. You're here because they want me. This is my fault to begin with an' you're the only one I trust my country to, even if you are a socialist."

Canada deadpanned for a brief second before shaking it off, "But what good will it do if you die?"

"Well, you'll get my strength and you'll be able to fight your way out of here," he said with a shrug, "You could beat 'em all super easy. An' I get to look like the hero, dying for the cause."

"Or you could look like a hero for defeating the villains," Canada pointed out, "Though I don't completely trust you with Canada, I think you'd do a fine job. We both know the only reason you're here is because they used me. I don't like being a tool. I want you to beat them, and I want you to do it for me- with my strength."

"But Mattie, I can't kill you," he frowned.

"And what makes you think I can kill you?"

"Just pretend you're angry at me."

"Alfred," he sighed, "I could never be angry enough at you to want you dead."

"What if its hockey season and we beat you bad?"

And despite everything, that pulled a light chuckle from Canada, "Even if it's hockey season and you beat me bad, I wouldn't want to see you dead. I care too much about you to ever want you dead, Alfred."

America just gave him a wide, toothy grin, "Alright then, I guess we'll just have to plan something else, right? 'Cause heroes don't kill innocent people an' you're too much of a wimp to kill me."

"Heh, let's show them what the North American brothers can do, eh?"

* * *

A/N: So finally I got this part up. I have been uploading my DA too. An so I finally have the two of them in sync. Sorry for any errors or any inconsistencies between the two, I edited the ones on DA but left the ones the same here. So sorry for any continuity errors!

Warning: There will be a character death.


	7. Chapter 7

"Both Alfred and Matthew are missing and neither one will answer their phones," England's eyes met those of his fellow colleagues'. At the mention of Canada missing, Prussia and Holland looked up, both visibly unnerved. At the mention of America missing, Japan and Russia had a noticeable change of expression- going from one of indifference to just a slight brow furrow of concern.

"Do we know for sure they're missing and not just, erm, 'busy'?" Austria tilted his head. He didn't delve into the details of his theory, but that was hardly a problem for the nations. They all more than understood the implication.

"My son and Alfred do not have that kind of relationship," France replied, leaning back in his chair, concern in his eyes and arms crossed, "Mathieu was not at the meeting today. Alfred must have gone searching for him and gotten caught in whatever caught Mathieu."

"Unfortunately," Germany's fingers went to his temple, rubbing firmly as he sighed, "there's nothing we can do."

There was a silence that filled the room. England's body was rigid; his blood ran cold as soon as the words sunk in. What? Why couldn't he make sense of that? He blinked, shaking his head before looking back up at Germany, "What do you mean by that?" He hadn't made enough sense of the statement to put an emotion in with his response. His mouth felt dry, they wouldn't really give up on something so serious, would they?

"I am sorry," Germany stood up, pushing in his chair and taking Italy's hand. He pulled the Italian up to a standing position, "We cannot do anything until their captor emerges."

"But…."

"If we do anything else there is a risk we will be captured ourselves. It is too dangerous."

"But Alfred and Matthew will be dead by then!" England was standing, his hands firm on the table, "Whoever it is will have North America's strength!"

"Separately we are weaker than North America, that is true," Germany started towards the door, "Together we are strong. When the captor emerges if we combine our forces to defend we will win. If we go now our uncertainty will blind and split us and we will lose."

"Ludwig!" It only took a second; there was the crashing of a chair and the hustling of feet before England stood between the German and the door. The Italian off in the back, hiding from the furious Englishman, "I refuse to just sit here and watch my son die!"

"And I refuse to watch the world fall prey."

*A*

The North American brothers sat in their seats, imprisoned by the bonds wrapped tightly around their bodies. Both nations could get free with ease, especially now that the enemy's attention was divided- but the threat of losing the other kept them from doing so. However, despite the threat and the concern for the other they had a plan and they weren't going to let it fail.

"So, my dear friends are you comfortable now?" the boss strolled into the room followed by his lackeys, America's narrowed eyes directed at who seemed to be the second-in-command. The one who had captured him.

"We aren't friends," the Canadian growled, his voice low, angry- yet it had a soft overtone to it. Despite the situation, the Canadian's voice still had the essence of politeness.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid that hurts," the boss faked a swoon before laughing, "Ah, Mattie dear, you are a riot! Tell me, how is your brother?" He asked, moving closer to Matthew, kneeling down in front of him. Matthew's lips went tight. "Why so quiet?" he blinked, "Oh! I know why! It must be because you don't know how he is! Hey, Timothy," the boss turned to the second-in-command, "How's our dog doing?"

In one swift moment America's shoulders were grabbed to keep the chair steady and the man's knee came up high, jamming itself into America's solar plexus. The American's breath caught in his throat as he gasped for air. "He's positively speechless, almost breathless I would say," was the response as the captive struggled to get his air supply back.

The boss only grinned a toothy grin as Canada mentally dammed the man for everything. "Hey, Mattie, aren't you concerned? Why don't you ask your brother if he's okay?"

The nation shot a look up at the villain. He didn't want to obey anything this man was saying. In fact, he wanted to rip these ties right off his body and lunge. But the two other men… they both had their weapons trained on him and his brother. He couldn't risk it.

"You know, you seem very hostile. So does he. I know what will make things better! Sweets!" The man took a wrapped brownie from his pocket. "Ah, I only have one. Let's split it between the two of you."

The first half was forced in between Matthew's tight lips, the chocolate spreading over the nation's teeth before the pressure finally forced the teeth to open a crack. However, no sooner had his teeth parted did he clamp them shut. Only bits of the brownie got down his throat- though a hand cupped over his mouth tightly forcing him to swallow the bits and pieces stuck on his teeth and in his cheeks.

The second half was much easier to get into a body. America couldn't keep his mouth shut for long, still fighting for air. The man shoved the brownie in the American's mouth and shut it for him. His hand was tight over America's nose and mouth, forcing the treat to be swallowed quickly so air could flow through again. He walked back to Canada.

"Now we just need to add a few scrapes to you and my friend will add a few scrapes to the dog. After that, you will be ready to be filmed!"

It only took five minutes. Canada's shirt and pants were torn, blood trickling down his arm and a cut on his cheek. America wasn't that much better, still breathing heavily from the abuse, he suffered a long slash across his chest that had torn his shirt; his nose was bleeding and his eye was turning a bright purpling blue.

During this time the camera was being set up in front of them, everything ready to air live right from where they were. "Okay. All I need from Matthew is for you to sit pretty and smile at first. Dog, you're going to ask for your leader to hand over the country to me. Then we'll go back to Matthew and he's going to beg for his country to hand themselves over. I want you to cry, okay? Cry the whole time. It evokes emotion. Are you ready for your debut? Ready… and…Action!"

At the word 'action' both America and Canada sprung from their seats, throwing the chairs backwards as the ropes ripped off of them. The two villains behind them managed to avoid the flying chairs.

One began to aim at America, but he was quickly brought down as Canada rammed his full nation strength into the man's side, the brawl between the two nations and the two guards quickly escalating as the boss and his second-in-command remained forgotten off to the side.

Neither man expressed any concern at the situation, the reason showing in the few seconds that followed. America felt his limbs getting heavier. He was getting weaker. The lackey he was fighting was able to grab his shoulders and spin him around- taking no time before twisting his arm up his back, forcing the American to his knees.

The Canadian was weakened as well, but was grabbed and shoved against the wall, the henchman's knee going between his legs as he was pinned against the wall by his shoulders, his arms trapped by his own body. Canada's cheek was squished against the wall as he glared at the boss, his body frozen in place.

America and Canada were paralyzed, unable to fight, more vulnerable than they had been before. They were placed back in their chairs and their hands were simply cuffed behind them, this time the villains keeping the barrels of their guns placed directly at the back of their heads.

"I heard everything you said you dummies! Do you honestly think I would be so stupid as to leave you unattended to plot against me?"

"Yes." America managed to growl. The gun's pressure increased against the back of his head, not letting him forget its presence. The boss laughed, striding straight up to the paralyzed nation.

"You're one to talk," he spat on the nation, "Look at your pathetic excuse for a country. It will be much better with me as dictator."

The American's eyes shot up, fire burning.

"Oh, dear, did I offend you? Or are you thinking 'you aren't going to win'? I hope it's not the latter because if it is, I have news for you. As I've told you before, I've already won."

*D*

"I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be."

"What if they took Feliciano?"

"Then our positions would be reversed."

England was silent, his jaw set, body rooted between the much larger man and the door. He glanced at the Italian and then back at the German. Italy had seemed to be trying to stay as far from the argument as possible. The small nation was torn between the two sides.

"Doitsu," he whispered, still using the Japanese word for 'German' he had been taught many years ago, "I don't want them to die."

Germany's expression softened. The man turned, "I'm sorry, Feliciano but all we can do is pray."

The Italian listened and nodded, able to make sense of the reasoning or at least showing his trust in the German. So Italy did what the German said was the only thing they could do. He reached under his shirt and pulled out the small cross he kept around a silver chain. His eyes closed for a minute as he mumbled something in Italian, ending with a kiss on the cross.

Tension in the room remained but it was a dull, aching sort of tension, the previous darkness that clouded the room dissipated and the nations could breathe just a little bit easier. Italy reached for England's hand, smiling a hopeful smile, "They won't die. God won't let them die."

And while England himself had been going through struggles with his faith over the past few years he appreciated the prayer and the heart behind the words. "Thank you, Feliciano," he gave a small smile.

"Alfred and Matthew are strong!" Italy continued, "And as long as fratellos are together, they're gonna be okay!"

That drew a smile from the Frenchman who still remained silent. England answered for the both of them, "You are very wise, Feliciano. We can't lose hope in them. Alfred may be an idiot at times and Matthew is quiet, but they've grown so strong so quickly."

"It sounds like we have hope now, which is one thing we lacked before. Seems like fate is smiling on us," France tilted his head.

"Yes. Yes fate is on our side. We are nations," Germany was firm, "We will not be defeated by mortals who only just realized we have what they want."

Everything in the room lightened further at the new talk of hope. Nations who until previously were tense with one another relaxed in each other's presence. It was one thing when your enemy was the person across the room from you. It was another when the enemy was an outside force against them all.

They learned this lesson once before, when no one could agree long enough to defeat an intruder to the planet, but they weren't going to make that mistake again. Especially when now, the stakes were even higher than before.

_Ring, ring~ _The room silenced in an instant, "Hello, Arthur Kirkland speaking," the call was from one of his people in the House of Commons. Some of the very few people who had known about them and who had been sworn to secrecy long before any of this happened. "What? What's the address?" England looked to the room, "Someone, turn the projector on and go online," he rattled off the address as quick as he received it, a button that was pressed lowered the projection screen while a switch made the projector rumble awake as the blinding blue light shot the computer's window onto the large screen behind the podium.

England's phone dropped with jaws, all hope that had gathered in the room quickly evaporated as the live streaming video was understood and absorbed by all.

"Hello, people of the world," a cracking, laughing voice started. The volume was turned up, "I have two very special guests, and they have very important requests. They were so determined to deliver the message to all of you- you'd think…" the man's black hair, stubbly chin, and pale face appeared between the two still nations as he walked through the chairs. His grin was wide and shark-like, "you'd think their lives depended on it."

* * *

A/N: So here's the next chapter! I hope you guys like it ^^ Thank you so much for reading it so far, I really do appreciate it. I love the nice comments and the friendliness of everyone. Oh, warning, there will be a character death. Just so you know.


	8. Chapter 8

England felt his throat dry up, disbelief washing over him. His body shook. This scene… it was haunting. Not just seeing the young men he was so close to, but also seeing nations like himself trapped with guns to their heads. He hoped the government was tracking where this was coming from, he hoped that the villain wouldn't do anything until the authorities got there. He hoped that America and Canada would get out alive.

"Speak!"

The smack that followed left a red mark on America's face. The country's lips were tight as he glared at the villain.

"If you do not speak, Matthew will die."

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"Pardon?"

America growled, "You started all of this. How did you find out? How did you know there was something there?"

The man smirked. "Oh, so you're taking up these poor citizen's times with your wild accusations-"

"You heard about us and bugged the room. Then you sold the information and once you caught the world's attention you captured us to make a big show. That's all you are. A show."

England's breath caught as he looked from America to the villain. There was another silence, "Alfred… please… think…" he whispered as he awaited the reaction from the villain.

"Oh, dog, you're so funny. So funny… so fucking funny!" And he kicked hard at America's shins causing the American to inhale sharply in pain. The villain just smirked before turning around, "So, now that we've gotten that taken care of, let me translate from American to human. If you want your representatives to survive, hand over your country to me."

*A*

Canada had to time this. He had to do it well. The kick to America's knees? Yeah, it wasn't going to be that significant in terms of changing their plans. He paused for a second while he waited for the villain to give his attention back to the camera. He only had one chance for this. The paralysis was wearing off… and he had his full range of movement and his full strength.

He glanced over to America, catching his eye. Affirmative. That's what he got. They were actually going to do this. And through this they were going to win. They were going to succeed. He and America would be back with their fellow nations soon, and though they might not be forever safe in their company they would be safe for the time being.

"I await your responses," the man grinned. And on those words, Canada and America both broke the cuffs, letting themselves fall at an angle so that despite the gunshots, the bullets hit the ground.

Both nations stood immediately once more, grabbing the villains and the guns In a powerful grip, using all of their nation strength.

"Do you really think we were so stupid as to let you hear our plan?" America laughed as he held the gun to one of the lackey's head. Canada did the same to the other. "It was a decoy, dumbass." America chuckled, "We're nations. You can't win."

*T*

The cheer in the room of Nations was the loudest they had ever cheered together. The Nations all united behind the two in danger. England couldn't believe what was happening. His little boy… and then the other little boy he had helped raise… they were both so powerful. So smart.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek out of relief. His family was going to be okay. He felt a hand on his arm and he looked to the side, Italy was there with a small smile. "They are very brave." He whispered.

"Thank you, Feliciano," England smiled. He then looked over to France, wanting to meet his eyes. But there was a crease on his forehead instead of relief. "Francis?"

"It's not over," France said. He paused, turning to England, "We have not won yet." He whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

But he never received an answer from France. There was a laugh. A deep, manic laugh coming from the screen.

"Oh, you are too funny, Alfred." The man laughed even deeper. And England's body stiffened. "You really think you've won this time, don't you? Well. Let me share with you a small secret about heroes and villains."

England could only watch as the villain pulled out his own gun in one long, smooth motion- a smile on his face.

"See, the villain doesn't care who dies…" he said as he lifted the gun, firing fast, killing the lackey that was being held by Canada. "The hero, however, does."

There were three more gunshots, all aimed at Canada. The Nations watched in silent horror, powerless to help as America released his hostage and threw himself in front of Canada.

*H*

It happened so fast. One moment the man in his arms was falling to the ground- dead. The next moment he was shoved against the wall by his brother's weight. Then there was a thud. This one much heavier than the first. Canada blinked, trying to realize what had just happened.

Blood. Blood that wasn't his but should have been was pooling on the ground.

Canada fell to his knees, eyes wide and trying to comprehend as he looked down at the blood surrounding his brother. "No…" He whispered. He cradled his brother in his arms, "Alfred?" He whispered, shaking, praying the American's eyes would open. "Come on Al, we have to get out of here together. We have to get out of here alive, remember? Your people need you."

America managed to crack his eyes just a little, "Matthew… don't let him win." He whispered.

"Don't worry, we won't, we'll beat him," Canada smiled, he tried to smile, "Now rest up and let yourself heal. You'll be fighting fit in a minute…"

"I'm sorry, Mattie," his voice wasn't shaking. It was strong, commanding, no fear, "take care of Arthur, okay?"

"What? No, you can take care of him when you get back…"

"I love you, Mattie," he managed to get out before his eyes closed and his body fell limp.

"America? Al? AL! ALFRED!"

The room was silent except for the gently sobbing Canadian man when the American's color dulled significantly, skin turning quickly into a sickly gray, hair dulling and losing all traces of any shine.

"I feel it…" the villain began to laugh, "His power. I have America's power!" He arched his back, laughing up to the unresponsive ceiling. "This was his ultimate defeat. I have won!"

* * *

A/N: This one is shorter than the others. But I felt that length wasn't as important. There are only a few other parts to this, and I will upload them eventually. Thank you for your patience!


	9. Chapter 9

"ALFRED!" England froze in disbelief. His body shaking. Tears already forming. He found himself just staring at the bloodied body of his son. The little colony he had raised… it took just a second… and now he was gone.

Russia gripped his pipe tight. There was a reddening that started around his eyes. He wouldn't cry. Russia was too strong to cry. Just like America was too strong to be killed by a human. "A puny, scrawny, foolish mortal," the words were deep and dangerous. The Russian gripping the pipe harder. His knuckles turning white.

Japan was sitting straight in his seat. Perfectly erect as he stared at the screen with a cold, hard gaze. And now Canada was in danger. Why weren't they able to find this hideout faster? So inefficient.

England was completely stunned. Over two hundred years with him… Only two hundred years with him. So young. Such a young, young man. Young nation. Gone. Taken from them. The room was a deafening silence. England fell back into his seat, leaning forward over the table and hiding his face behind his hand as his shoulders shook.

But it wasn't over, was it? He looked up with his tear streaked cheeks. The villain was alive and with a nation's power. He stole America's power. "…Give him hell, Matthew." He whispered, growling, anger swallowing grief.

*E*

There was a cacophony of laughter and sobs in the small square room in front of the camera. Canada was able to calm himself, the sorrow parting way for anger as his eyes shot a narrow glare at the villain. He gently laid down his brother's body, standing on his own shaky legs, covered in his brother's blood.

"I hope you're prepared to die," He said. His eyes full of fire and anger, hungry for revenge. He approached slowly, prowling like a predator. A gun was quickly aimed at Canada's chest courtesy of the villain's second-in-command. "I'll kill you before that man can fire his weapon."

"I have America's power, Canada. You will not be able to defeat me," he said with a laugh.

"You may have America's power," Canada spoke slowly before stopping his movement, "but can you handle it?"

And then as if on cue, the villain's joints stiffened. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Canada glared down at him, no emotion on his face except for a scowl.

"What… what's happening… my head…" the man's hands gripped his head, veins pulsing, his forehead hitting the ground. His fingers dug into his skull, drawing blood that trickled down his temples.

"Your head feels as if it's splitting in half, doesn't it?" the Canadian's voice was cold, unforgiving.

"Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!"

"Why? Didn't you want America's power?"

"NO! I don't want it anymore! TAKE IT BACK!"

The man's voice now reached a pitch that surprised Canada, but the Canadian didn't let the surprise show. "So you're just going to let my brother's death be in vain?"

"I don't care! JUST TAKE BACK THE-AHHHHHHHH!"

And then there was silence.

"You lost." Was the unsympathetic whisper, "What kind of fool thinks that a mere mortal can handle a Nation's power?" His eyes moved dangerously to the two remaining henchmen- the second-in-command and the lackey, "Do you want to try?"

The two men shook their heads. Canada's gaze unforgiving as he moved closer, "Are you sure? I'm unarmed. You could take my life if you wanted. So do you want to?"

The second-in-command shook his head quickly. "What? Isn't that why you brought me here?" He got closer, the lackey turning away as the Nation backed the second-in-command into a corner. "Isn't that why you killed my brother?"

"Get…get away from me!"

"You killed him for his power. Just like a hunter would kill a fox for its coat. What do you have that I want?" He stood even closer. The man lifted a gun, aiming it at Canada.

"Don't come closer or else!"

"You really want to shoot me?" He chuckled, "You saw what happens when you murder one of us. Do you want to die that badly? If so…" his hand shot out, knocking away the gun and gripping the human's neck, "I can make it faster. Much faster."

There was no chance for a final word to be spoken as the neck was squeezed hard and crushed by Canada's strength. The body fell limp and was dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

A door was opening. The man trying to get it open as quiet as possible. But he wasn't quiet enough. Canada smirked. His mind gone from grief and anger. He grabbed one of the wooden chairs, pulling the leg and the back of the same side of the chair off of the rest, leaving the top of the back of the chair attached. He gripped the make-shift hockey stick tight, putting the blade behind the metal gun.

He chuckled before lifting the hockey stick and bringing it down quick behind the metal weapon, snapping the stick in half. It flew hard and fast, hitting the man in the head before he could get out of the room, impaling itself in his skull. He dropped hard to the ground and Canada neared the body, spitting before turning to the camera. He approached the video camera, "Just try sticking me in the penalty box," He growled before flicking it off.

As soon as the camera turned off, the reality of the situation hit him hard. Five corpses in the room. One was his brother's.

The Canadian was the last one standing, but not because of his strength. "You idiot." He fell to his knees once more beside his brother. It should have been him lying there, dead. "Why do you always have to be the center of attention?"

His brother's face should have never been this pale. His cheeks should have never been this cold. His hair this dull. His body this still. America's power was gone. Canada couldn't care less where it went at this moment. If he could catch it though, if he could catch it and give it back and bring his brother back to life he would in less than a heartbeat. Even at the cost of his own life.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered to his brother's body. The words tasted foreign to him. Unacceptably foreign. Had he really never said that to him? His shoulders shook, "I should have said it more. You deserved to hear it so much more, Al. I'm so proud of you. I'm proud to have been your brother."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much for all your support! The next chapter will be the final chapter, and I'm super happy you all followed me on this ride. I already have the plot for another Hetalia fic. Potentially two. I'm also working on a game using my programming skills I'm learning where you would play as America through a "choose your own adventure" type bit. So keep a look out for that!

Thank you so much again!


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a hero's funeral with Canada standing strong among the rest of the nations. By his and England's permission the event was being broadcasted; America's country deserved the right to mourn as well.

He was buried in DC. The ceremony held at the National Mall. He was buried under a dogwood tree- a broken chain on his gravestone. He was a loss to the family. Their entire family of nations.

His resting spot was in a special area of the cemetery. England wasn't looking up at all; he hadn't let anyone meet his gaze. His shoulders hadn't stopped shaking. Canada's hand went to England's back, rubbing gently as he leaned over and whispered, "He was very brave, he died a hero. That's how he would have wanted to die."

"But he shouldn't have had to die," England shook, "I should have stopped his foolish plan. I should have told him no. I was his father and I let him down! I let him get killed." Canada frowned, his other arm wrapping around England's shoulder, pulling him in close.

"This isn't your fault," Canada whispered, hugging him.

"I miss him… I miss him so much already."

"So do I," Canada squeezed gently, "So do I."

*E*

A month had passed since America's death. Canada was going visiting the grave of his late brother, a daily habit he knew he had to break eventually. But eventually could wait. He had fresh roses in his arms, America's favorite flower. The red petals rested against the brown dirt in front of the gravestone and he allowed a small smile to grace his lips, "So, we have a meeting tomorrow." He spoke softly, "Though it's never the same without you. It's a lot quieter, for one," he tried to laugh just a little.

The meetings had been very quiet. Very short too. There weren't as many interruptions since people just wanted to get out of the room as quick as possible. To top it all off, England was even shorter tempered than usual. The nations collectively decided it wouldn't be good to upset him any further.

There was also a confusion that people didn't want to delve into- though Canada felt that there were a few nations who had an idea; namely the older nations who had been around longer. No human had ever murdered a nation before. What was going to be the result? Where did America's power go? It hadn't returned to the nation. Canada hadn't been the one to kill the murderer, so he didn't get the power. It just vanished it seemed. This had been a source of concern and worry for some nations and curiosity for the others. "I just wish we knew…" he said softly. "It's really worrying all of us."

He sat down next to the grave, looking at the headstone that read:

"_Alfred F. Jones _

_United States of America_

_Brother. Son. Friend. Nation. Hero."_

The bottom line dated his discovery and his death.

The tear rolled down his cheek, his memory a painful reminder as to why America was underground now. "It should have been me." He whispered, "Why? Why did you have to be the hero?" Guilt. That's what he felt too. He was guilty for leading his brother to his death.

He looked down at his fingers. They had healed quickly but the memory of the pain was still there. His fingers had been broken and he had cried out and his brother had stopped struggling. "Fuck…" He whispered. He felt anger. Frustration. "Fuck." All he wanted was his brother back. Was that really so much to ask for? He just wanted his brother. "Hey… when… when we-" he stopped for a moment. That phrase "When we meet again"… that didn't apply here. They were nations. Unless someone murdered Canada too… he was never going to meet his brother again.

There was a sharp tug at his heart at that realization. Hot tears surged. Humans found comfort in the loss of loved ones when they thought about the future. When they thought about meeting them in the afterlife. But nations didn't die. There was no meeting. "No…" he swallowed hard. Did England realize this? They were never going to see America again. He was never going see America smile again or eat a hamburger again or drink a milkshake or make a stupid comment or interrupt someone or drink a coffee or toss a football or hit a baseball again… he was never going to meet his next boss- he was never going to see what countries came next. America was gone. He was completely gone.

No… he wasn't completely gone. America as a country still existed. They as nations just had to make sure it stayed that way. A world without the United States… Canada just wanted to think of that as a bad thing. The country now was something he held close to his heart- it was their reminder. No one would ever forget Alfred F. Jones.

Canada refused to let anyone forget.

*N*

It was another world meeting. There had been a number of them in the following few months after America had been killed. And despite that, this one wasn't much lighter than the previous ones. There was still the overbearing mourning that had a presence among the group of nations. They tried to be light, keeping the conversations quick and short. Remembering America as a bright man with a blazing spirit.

They tried to minimize the sorrow, "He wouldn't want us to be sad," Italy had pointed out, trying to help. England could only offer a weak smile before his gaze went right back to his hands and the pen between his fingers.

Canada was being noticed now. Because his brother died for him. That's why. He had gone through something that "no one should ever have to go through, Mathieu." He was hardly ever forgotten anymore; people were constantly asking him for his opinions. Canada had always imagined the day he would be noticed and recognized as much as his brother was. That day was now here, though his mind had pictured it very differently.

"Does anyone else have any other business to discuss?" It was only 11:30. The meeting had started at nine and normally they would be getting ready for a lunch break having only gone through half the agenda. But now Germany was closing out the meeting since everyone had finished talking. Canada glanced around the room. People were silent.

"Matthew," there was a small voice. Canada's eyes went to Italy. Italy… the man had been a surprising support system through all this for him. Maybe it was because he too had a brother? An overbearing, loud mouth, inappropriate brother who was loved anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday." There was a pause. Canada blinked. Oh. It was July 1st. He gulped. Three days from now it would be America's birthday. There was a silence in the room. He had completely forgotten his own birthday. The months had just… blended together.

"Thank you, Feliciano."

"I think, I think Alfred knew he wasn't going to be here. Cause he asked me to give you this," Italy pulled out a small wrapped gift and handed it to Canada, "It was before that meeting… he said 'Feli, I don't know what it is, but I don't have a really good feeling and I can't find Matthew anywhere… After the meeting I'm going to look for him. I got him a really cool gift and I don't want him to die before he gets it. Can you keep it safe for me?' and I said yes."

Canada's hands were shaking. He took the gift from Italy and pulled it close. With trembling hands he unwrapped it- it was an album. A photo album. He opened it, pictures of the two of them since they were able to take pictures. His brother's smiling face… his own (sometimes disgruntled) expression. His shoulders began to quiver. He remembered when each photo was taken. They had been really, really small events but they now meant so much.

"He also had a card," With still unsteady hands the Canadian took the card. He opened it slowly. The card had a quirky joke on its cover with a quirky punch line.

_Wow! Can you believe it's been over two hundred years? Holy crap Matthew! We're almost as old as that old fart Arthur! Here's to another two hundred years of raising hell!_

_-Alfred F. Jones- America, FUCK YEAH!_

And he held the card with cold and clammy hands, reading and rereading the optimistic words before breaking down into heavy, broken sobs.

*D*

Their next meeting was three days later. They began with a small remembrance of America, exchanging funny stories about the boy they had known. He wasn't his nation's politics to any of them anymore. He was just America. The hero-loving, hamburger-eating man they all loved in some way. Nothing more and certainly nothing less.

There had been a lull in the conversation as they were attempting to transition from remembrance to business when there was a click. The door was being opened. There was a tension that blanketed the room. No one was allowed in their meetings after what had happened and no one was missing.

There was a small knock on the door that seemed to be there as an afterthought.

"…Come in." Germany's voice was deep, more intimidating than it had been for a long time, but the person wasn't deterred. The door opened and in the door stood a girl. She had brownish hair, short and about chin length. She was wearing a small top that just covered her assets with a similar, khaki-colored skirt. Her jacket was almost identical to the one America had worn and her boots went to mid-calf. Her hair was held out of her eyes with red hair clips and a star necklace hung around her neck.

"Um… is this the world meeting?" She was quiet. She sounded timid. Germany stiffened and crossed his arms.

"And who are you?"

At the question her eyes brightened, she lit up with confidence as she puffed her chest out proudly and declared:

"I'm America!"

* * *

A/N: So this is the very last part. Thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me! I have two plot ideas in the making; one is a comedy- a crossover between Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club and the other another drama. Though I have also been thinking of a sequel to this. If anyone is interested, please say so! Thank you so much again for the kind reviews and the awesomeness of you all!


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